Like a Rose Needs the Rain
by Lycaenida-Zephyr
Summary: 'To Dean, it seemed that his entire life, a life spent fighting and running, in pain and in Hell, had been leading up to this moment, the moment when he and Cas joined for the first time and discovered that they were destined to be together, if the sense of completion in Dean's heart was anything to go by.' - Destiel, based on E14S5. M for a smutty reason.


**A/N **_I was inspired by E14S5 and the artwork "A Light That Never Goes Out" by Brilcrist. I love Destiel, I don't know what I'll do when Supernatural ends. Die, probably. Die painfully. Here's the first chapter, a teaser of what is to follow – sex, sex, sex._

_Zephyr _

**Part One**

**After**

It had started as comfort. Innocent, selfless, soothing comfort without intention.

He had seen it in the lost desperation shining through his eyes, eyes that fought in vain to restrain unwanted tears. He had seen it in the quiver of his lips as he contained his sobs of anguish. He had seen it in his body, his defeated, beaten-down posture as he stood slumped as if empty, limbs hanging useless and limp.

But most of all he had seen it in his soul.

Need. He had needed something, anything. He needed to know that what Famine said was untrue. He needed to be convinced that he was not broken, was not yet dead on the inside even though every voice in his head told him he was.

What had started as pure, good intention to comfort the human he had grown so attached to had ended up spinning wildly out of his control and understanding.

Castiel lay with his head turned towards the window staring at the sky, Dean's head against his shoulder, a tanned and muscular arm slung protectively – _possessively_ – over his middle.

The glow of a street lamp outside their room bathed Castiel in its false light, throwing a pattern of squares from the panes of glass, lending to the white sheets they were tangled in a hue of yellow. He was staring at nothing in particular, his eyes searching but not finding, his mind racing with questions as yet unanswered.

Never, not once in his unfathomably extensive existence had he felt a trace of what Dean invoked in him. Not once in his life had he been so close to human as he was at that moment, wrapped in the arms of a lover in sheets scented with passion and lust. Never had he taken a lover or felt at all inclined to, not before Dean, not before he had sought to give comfort to one so broken and found that it was himself in need.

How he had not known the true extent of his feelings could be penned down to the simple fact he had never truly experienced feelings, never had requirement of emotion, not until somehow without him realising Dean had broken down the wall inside of him, crumbling it brick by brick, until he was exposed, open, and God, so in need.

Dean had made him need. His mere presence had allowed his humanity to seep into Castiel until suddenly, and with great confusion to the angel, he found himself experiencing feelings on a spectrum he could not comprehend.

He had been fond of Dean and Sam for a long time – he had _rebelled _for Dean, if that was not down to fondness he did not know what it was for – and that alone was a new and bewildering feeling, to care for someone on so sentimental a level. But when he realised that he was more than fond for Dean he was not sure what that meant. It was past his comprehension.

When being around Dean started to make him feel inexplicably content, when a simple look from him (and those looks were many, though Castiel had not yet understood why) could cause a bizarre tightening in his gut and rush of heat in his face, that was when he realised that some new and strange emotion had been born in him.

So to see the one he felt so powerfully attached to, so desirous of a further connection with, quite obviously in a state of self-loathing, his first thought had been,

_No, you cannot feel so low about yourself when I regard you so highly._

It had started as simply as that. Dean's low opinion of himself, brought even lower by Famine's cruel taunting about his being dead on the inside, had forced Castiel to take action to convince Dean that he was wrong, that he was most certainly not dead on the inside if whatever was within him could make Castiel feel so wonderful.

It had started so simply…

And ended like this.

Castiel turned his gaze to Dean's slumbering form. For the first time since he had met him, his features were truly relaxed and a content, self-satisfied warmth radiated from his being. For the first time he seemed truly at peace with himself as he slept curled about Castiel, clutching him as if to keep him from leaving.

As if he would leave. As if he _could _ever leave. Not now, not when their bond was so immensely profound. The man he had rebelled for was the man he would die for, willingly and without hesitation, for the sake of one new, beautiful emotion.

Love.

**Part Two**

**Before**

Cars were of use to humans but to Castiel they were slow, cumbersome things. He could have been at the motel in an instant but he did not want to leave Dean's side given the state he was in. Normally he would be worrying about Sam, Sam who sat in the back of the car in sullen silence, his face crusted with the drying blood of demons. He could deal with that later.

His more pressing concern was Dean.

Dean drove mechanically, shut down for all intensive purposes, his gaze fixed on the road and face stoic. Every so often tears would bloom in the corners of his eyes like crystalline flower buds and Dean would hastily blink them away, drawing a shuddering breath to calm himself.

It was a relief for them all to pull up at the motel. Neither brother questioned why Castiel was still with them, why he had not gone wherever it was he went whilst they were sleeping. Nor did either Winchester voice why Sam took his things and stalked off alone, paying for another room on another fake credit card to spend the night alone.

Cas followed Dean into his room without hearing so much as a word of enquiry. The door closed behind them and he tentatively reached his arms out and enveloped Dean within them from behind, holding him in a firm grip to his body.

"I have no personal experience of human consolation or affection, but have observed that this is a common practice." He explained in his usual serious tone.

Dean's body was stiff for a few heartbeats, the shock surprise of physical contact with Castiel immobilising him momentarily. Greater still was the shock of Castiel initialising a _hug _and speaking of affection.

It took another heartbeat for him to relax, feeling Castiel's forehead against his shoulder.

"Uh, Cas, you don't have to – "

"I want to." The angel replied. "Is this not the correct way to express sympathy and offer reassurance through physical touch? I have seen this act performed many times."

Dean smiled despite the weariness he felt. "It's called a hug, Cas. And yes, that's what people do to…offer reassurance, and stuff."

Castiel lifted his head so that his lips were right next to Dean's ear. His low, gravelly voice and warm breath combined to make Dean shiver slightly.

"'And stuff'? What else is a 'hug' used to communicate?" He queried curiously. "And why do you tremble?"

Dean huffed an anxious breath of laughter before letting out a startled yelp as he stumbled backwards, Castiel's support suddenly gone. The angel was in front of him in a blink of an eye, hands grabbing onto Dean's upper arms to steady him, his grip firm.

"Jesus, Cas!" Dean exclaimed breathlessly.

"Are you unwell?" Cas gazed at him in concern, deep blue eyes searching his face askance.

"Unwell? No, I'm fine, just – don't do that."

"You shivered, that can be prelude to a fever or illness. Are you certain that you are well?" His grip remained tight around Dean's arms.

"I'm fine, really." Dean blushed slightly at the close proximity of the angel as he studied his face, clear concern furrowing his brow. He didn't want to try to explain to Cas that the reason for his shiver was the sound of the angels voice and heat of his breath against his ear. Hell, he didn't want to try to explain his reaction to _himself_.

"Your face is flushed. I am sure that you are unwell, you must rest." Cas insisted, his hand coming up to press to Dean's forehead. "You feel hot."

"Yeah, I feel hot, 'cause you're making me nervous." Dean tried to avoid Castiel's intense gaze, but did not make a move to remove his hand from his brow. His hand was cool, and he _was _hot, but not from illness. His touch was soothing, if not counterproductively flustering.

"How am I making you nervous?" Castiel moved his hand and Dean mourned his touch.

"You still haven't grasped the concept of personal space, and Jesus, Cas, you just _hugged _me and went all Florence Nightingale on my ass."

"Florence Nightingale was a nurse whose purpose was to care for the sick, so I understand your reference on this occasion." Castiel informed him proudly.

"And the hugging?" Dean pressed. Castiel gave him one of his long, silent stares.

"What is a hug used to communicate? You did not answer my question."

Dean sighed, his breath tickling Castiel's face, so close did they still stand. Between them were but a few inches but neither made a move to change this.

"Like you said; sympathy, reassurance, affection. You hug someone if you like them."

"I like you, Dean." Castiel stated. "I like you and I wished to express that."

Dean couldn't help the small smile that teased his lips, or calm his heart as it kicked up its pace.

"You like me?"

Castiel nodded.

"Yes, more so than any other human I have been in contact with during my existence. You seemed to be very upset and I did not like it, so sought to make you feel better. I do not like it when you are unhappy as it makes me unhappy. I cannot explain it but I have a strong attachment to you that seems to have made me sensitive to your emotions."

Dean's smile broke out into an all-out shit-eating grin.

"You…" He started laughing and Castiel gave him one of his questioning stares.

"I am funny to you?" He asked.

"Funny? Nah, just…cute. Cas, you're adorable, you know?"

Castiel seemed unable to grasp the concept of being 'adorable'.

"I don't understand…"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Me either, but hey, it's true. I like you too, Cas."

At this Castiel seemed infinitely pleased. "To be liked is a good thing."

"Yeah, it is. Two people liking each other is definitely a good thing. That's when people hug – when they like each other."

Castiel cocked his head to the side. "I have not been hugged before."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" Cas nodded. "That's…terrible."

Cautiously, Dean lifted his arms. One he slipped around Castiel's waist and the other over his shoulder, pulling the angel to him. Their bodies pressed together and he heard Castiel's small gasp of surprise. His arms fluttered like shy butterflies to wrap around Dean's torso, lightly at first, until his courage allowed him to squeeze him back.

Dean bowed his head into the crook of Castiel's neck and inhaled his scent. Castiel turned his cheek to rest against Dean's chest and let out a long, contented sigh.

The sound of the sigh made the affection Dean felt towards Cas swell to bursting, his heart filling up painfully until it felt tight within his ribcage.

"This feels…good." Cas murmured quietly. "I have not felt like this before."

As his too-large heart thudded wildly in the confines of its bone cage and his lungs constricted, Dean found it hard to breathe with an armful of angel. The self-loathing that had but an hour go consumed him in its despairing bleakness melted away under the angels touch. It was the first time in years Dean could say that a simple hug had honestly made everything all right.

His arms tightened around Castiel and the hand on his back moved lower to rub circles at the base of his spine, eliciting a small sigh of pleasure from the smaller man.

"That feels good, too." Cas sighed happily. "I understand why humans touch so often, now."

Dean lifted his head from Castiel's shoulder and the angel looked up at him in response.

"You haven't been touched a lot, have you?" Dean asked, fingers pressing harder.

"No, I have not had cause to be touched like this."

Dean eyed him curiously, his free hand slipping up his back to cup the back of his neck. Cas kept his eyes locked with Deans, watching him all the while, seeming just as, if not more, curious at the discovery of an affectionate touch.

"So nobody has ever," Dean wet his suddenly dry lips. "Nobody has ever kissed you before then, have they?"

Castiel's eyes flared in interest. "No." He replied shortly.

Lowering his eyes to his pale, full lips, Dean carefully applied just enough pressure on the back of Castiel's neck to urge him forwards as he closed the space between them himself, cautiously pressing his lips to the angels.

Although it was a dry, chaste, experimental kiss, the white-hot electricity that sparked between them was overwhelming. He felt Castiel's sharp inhalation of breath through his nose, felt his body suddenly stiffen before it melted into his touch.

He withdrew after a moment, not wanting to overload the angel in new experiences.

"Do it again." Castiel begged the second their lips parted.

He did not have to be told twice.

Returning his lips to where they seemed to belong, he moved his lips against Cas's slowly, easing him into the new-found joy of kissing. It didn't take long for Cas to understand what to do and soon enough he was mimicking Dean, his hands grabbing fistfuls of Deans jacket.

It was unlike anything Dean had ever experienced. He had kissed guys before; sure, he wasn't a stranger to the touch of a man, that primarily owing to a stage of curiosity and willingness to experiment when he was in his early twenties.

But nothing could compare to kissing an _angel._

His lips were drier than a woman's and his stubble bristled pleasantly against Dean's skin. He was a delightful mixture of rough and soft, of hard and pliant. Somehow Dean's unruly hand found itself tangled in his soft black hair, gripping it softly but firmly.

Castiel gasped against his lips, eyes flying open before fluttering closed.

_Holy shit._

Dean gave a small tug and watched as Castiel's features contorted in pleasure. He lightly scratched his nails against his scalp and tugged again, a little harder, a sharp stab of arousal travelling to his groin when Cas freakin' _moaned._

"Son of a bitch…" Dean whispered before latching his mouth onto Cas's once more, kissing him with burning desire, Cas responding with equal fervour.

Cas was a fast learner. When Dean eased his mouth open and slipped his tongue inside, he picked up on what to do immediately, their tongues twining lustfully as Dean kept his hand in his hair, tugging every so often, his other hand moving to Cas's slender hip where it gripped tightly.

He pulled away long enough to grab hold of his wrist and tug him towards the bed where he pushed him down, shucking off his jacket and climbing over him, knees planted either side of his body, pinning him down as he seized his mouth again.

God, the taste of him, the feel of him – it was sending his senses into overdrive, his cock hardened and begging for attention. And so help him, he could feel Castiel's own erection pressing into his own.

He ran his hands through his hair, loving the way it felt so smooth between his fingers, loving more so the reaction it earned him: a soft keening whine from the throat of Castiel.

They broke for air, both men panting desperately.

"Dean, I don't understand. I feel different." Castiel whimpered, eyes pleading, confused.

With a low chuckle Dean caressed Cas's cheek with his thumb. "You're aroused. I think you have a thing for hair pulling, too."

He did it just to prove his point. Honest.

The sharp tug made Castiel's eyes snap shut and another breathy moan escape his lips, the moan turning to a gasp when his hips involuntarily bucked upwards, colliding with Dean's and grinding their erections together through hindering material.

Groaning, Dean closed his eyes in bliss. "Seriously, Cas, don't do that or I won't be able to control myself."

"Don't."

"Come again?" Dean blinked, eyes locking with Castiel's. Glowing with the heat of desire though they were, they were clear, understanding.

"Don't control yourself. I want more of this feeling." Cas insisted earnestly, and so help him, Dean lost his control when he repeated the movement of his hips, rolling them upwards to grind against Dean's, throwing his head back in bliss and baring his throat.

"You don't know what you're asking." Dean insisted with the last shred of self-restraint he had. "A few minutes ago you had never even been kissed."

"I know what I'm asking. I'm asking for you. I want you, Dean. Please."

**Part Three**

Sex is not simply a carnal act. Sex, like an embrace, can be used to communicate a vast variety of things. Through ones body, one can express what words cannot.

Castiel was telling Dean that he wanted him, needed him – he was telling him that it was alright, that he understood his pain and wanted to erase it from him, to make everything better, to make him feel as good about himself as he deserved to, for Castiel believed in him.

Dean needs Castiel like a rose needs the rain. He feels that without Castiel there, with him, against him, under him, he would die. He feels that right now Castiel is the only thing keeping him sane, that the touch and taste of his flesh is the only real and beautiful thing in a world of nightmares and malice.

He has stripped Castiel of his cumbersome clothing, his actions cautious, because for all his burning lust he did not want to frighten the angel he cared for so dearly. He understood that everything happening between them was entirely brand new to Castiel, that he was for all intensive purposes a virgin. So help him, it had aroused him further, but also instilled in him a sense of duty and satisfaction, knowing that he was the one teaching him the joys of the flesh.

Castiel, however, was aroused to such a fever pitch that his eagerness would have driven away Dean's caustic care were it not for his absolute love for the angel.

Where Dean had been careful, Castiel had been urgent. Whilst Dean had helped to ease him out of his clothing to see, for the first time, his human body in a state of arousal, Cas had literally torn the clothes from Dean, leaving nothing but shreds of material.

The curiosity that Cas expressed so blatantly had lead to their current compromising position.

Against the wall facing the bed was mounted a large mirror that gave a perfect view of everything occurring upon the bed if you were so inclined to look at the correct angle. And the correct angle they were most certainly in, with Castiel sat between Dean's legs on the end of the bed. His back rested against Dean's hard chest, his head tilted back against his shoulder, Dean's legs spread to give him space to sit between them.

Neither could avert their eyes from the scene unfolding in the mirror like a live-action porn film. Dean's hand wrapped firmly around Castiel's weeping erection, his other tangled in his hair, holding his head up to make him watch every little thing he did to his body in the mirror. Every so often he tugged at the locks of his hair entwined in his fingers, sometimes just a gentle pull that elicited a soft moan, others a hard yank that caused the angel to cry out in bliss.

It was perverse in the most splendid way. Dean could not help but think that the person he was making moan and whine and shudder was a being of purity, a warrior of God, a creature made in Heaven…and he was reduced to a pleading, over-stimulated bundle of nerves in his hands.

His hand slipped easily up and down Castiel's hard length, lubricated by the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from the swollen head of his erection. He watched, entirely enthralled, every reaction to his touch Cas made.

Regularly, their eyes would meet in the mirror, remaining locked together intimately as Dean continued caressing him. It turned him on like nothing else to watch himself get Castiel off. This was evidenced in his own harder than he thought possible cock, pressed flush to Castiel's back.

He couldn't take much more torture. Hell had been easier than restraining himself like this.

Moving his hand from Castiel's hair – much to the annoyance of the angel – he slipped it to his groin and lower still, caressing over his balls and dipping further down. His fingers circled his slippery entrance, coaxing the tight muscle to relax and finding it plenty relaxed already as Cas all too willingly accepted the first finger inside of him.

Lubricated by his own bodily fluids Cas opened up to Dean's probing digit as it slid inside without much resistance, that alone making Dean groan heatedly as he pushed the finger deep inside of him. Castiel's desire to experience more of the pleasure Dean was giving to him coupled with his complete trust in the hunter made him unafraid, his body eagerly and without fear accepting all that Dean had to offer.

That, and it felt _so _good.

In response to another finger easing inside of him, Cas moaned wantonly, his back arching into nothing as Dean thrust his fingers into him gently, twisting and flicking them inside his tight heat, loosening him in preparation.

He released his hold on Castiel's cock, receiving a plaintive whine as he did.

"It's easiest to do this while you're feeling good – I don't want you to come yet." Dean explained in a low murmur against his ear, kissing his neck.

As his fingers continued to loosen Cas's entrance, his other hand, sticky with pre-cum, slid up his chest to toy with his nipples, rubbing and pinching and pulling them to hardness. All the while he watched in the mirror, watched Cas's heavy lidded eyes watching him.

Again their gazes locked, Cas at that moment reaching behind his back to Dean, hand finding his erection and squeezing tightly. In response to the sudden shock of pleasure in his body, Dean's brain momentarily shut down, his fingers stilling with Castiel's body and hand lingering on his chest as Cas mimicked what Dean had been doing to him.

"Stop." Dean panted pleadingly. "If you don't stop – "

"What? What will you do?" Cas asked purposefully, keeping his eyes locked on Dean's.

Always one to use action rather than words, Dean grabbed hold of Cas about the waist and threw him against the bed onto his back, crawling over him and seizing hold of his wrists, holding them either side of his head as the angel watched him inquisitively. Giving him a long, lustful look, Dean kissed him passionately, shuffling closer to him, using his knees to push Castiel's legs further apart until they were spread wide and he was knelt between them, his cock rubbing against his stretched hole.

Cas shuddered and moaned into the kiss at the feeling, his cock twitching in response.

Dean trailed kisses down his throat, breathing hot air against already burning skin.

"I love you, Cas." He whispered, kissing the crook of his neck. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked, looking into his eyes for any trace of uncertainty.

There was none.

"I am sure, and…I also love you, Dean." Castiel replied earnestly.

Slowly and gently, Dean pushed himself into Castiel's body, hips inching forwards carefully as the head of him breached his body, the rest following smoothly and without hindrance. He knew how much the first time could hurt and took it as a boost to his ego that Cas displayed no signs of pain, instead groaning loudly as he sheathed himself within his tight, constricting body, heat enveloping him in a rush of pleasure.

He paused for a moment, senses overwhelmed, body sweating and heart thumping.

"Oh, God, you feel so good, Cas." He groaned breathlessly, placing a succession of quick kisses to Castiel's lips.

"So do you. You feel good inside of me." Cas responded, voice a low, pleased rumble.

Chuckling lightly, Dean noticed that he was still holding Castiel's wrists down on the bed, effectively pinning him beneath his weight. He let go, but Cas shook his head.

"I like that." He explained. "I don't know why."

With a grin, Dean gripped his wrists firmly again, feeling Cas tighten slightly around him.

"So you have a hair kink _and_ you're submissive. I can't complain 'bout that."

Before Cas could reply, he eased himself partially out of him and thrust forwards, repeating the action upon receiving an encouraging gasp from his partner. Soon, they found their rhythm, Dean moving into Cas with hard, deep thrusts.

They needed it, both of them, needed to feel one another entirely.

Castiel was demanding. For his first time, he certainly knew what he wanted and was unafraid to voice it. After he had adjusted to the large length and thick girth of Dean within him and the ache had subsided, he discovered a taste for somewhat brutal sex, half demanding and half begging Dean to take him harder, _damn it Dean, harder, _until the sweat poured from Dean and his muscles ached in the most glorious way.

Cas liked to be handled roughly. He liked the feeling of Dean's weight holding him down even if he could just disappear at will. He liked the sharp sting of the bite-marks Dean left on his neck and chest, the feeling of sharp and perfect teeth tugging his nipple or earlobe.

But most of all Cas loved Dean's hands in his hair and the ripples of pleasure like red-hot sin the sensation sent through his body, crackling down his spine like lightening and igniting a fire in his gut.

No longer afraid of hurting his new partner, Dean fucked him with abandon, all of his stress and fear melting away as his body burned hot – hot where he was joined with Castiel, hot where Cas's hands touched him as he gripped Dean's biceps and back, and hot in his heart, where he felt for the first time what it meant to love somebody so completely.

In his mind he dimly registered that he was not fucking Cas: he was making love to him. Passionate, urgent, desperate love making, but love making nonetheless. For all their frantic biting kisses and feverous rutting of sweat slicked bodies, at the centre of it all still remained the mutual glow of love in their hearts.

Never before had Dean experienced anything like it. To be joined with Castiel felt so _right _and so wonderful in a way that had nothing to do with the mind-blowing pleasure such a coupling produced that Dean wondered how he had survived without that feeling before. How had he possibly even survived without being with Castiel when he for the first time realised how empty he had been before he quite literally flew into his life?

To Dean, it seemed that his entire life, a life spent fighting and running, in pain and in Hell, had been leading up to this moment, the moment when he and Cas joined for the first time and discovered that they were destined to be together, if the sense of completion in Dean's heart was anything to go by.

He slowed his pace down, sliding into Cas at leisure, drawing delicious breathy gasps from the angel, who for all his pleading for it harder and deeper was still learning and found himself teetering on the edge as Dean slowly slipped in and out of him.

Dean wrapped his arms behind Cas and lifted him up and into his lap.

"Wrap your legs around me." He instructed, his voice hoarse and thick with pleasure.

Cas complied, finding himself seated in Deans lap and impaled on his cock, perfectly balanced if he put his arms around his neck. Dean steadied him by clutching him at the hip with his strong hands, guiding him to move in time with him until Cas was lifting up as Dean receded and falling back down with a seamless roll of his hips as Dean thrust up. The new angle and depth of penetration had Castiel panting heavily, the abuse of the bundle of nerves Dean continuously pressed into driving him insane.

Their chests slid together as they pressed together as closely as possible, Castiel's head bowed into Dean's neck. He felt Dean's fingers dig into him, hard, the nails biting into his flesh and breaking the skin. The pain was beautiful.

"Dean, I can't…I won't…" Castiel gasped, uttering a string of insensible words Dean understood to be Enochian for 'I'm going to come.'

He moved one hand from his hip to his erection, a few quick strokes finishing Castiel off. The angel cried out in so loud a voice Dean thought that all of Heaven would hear them. His body convulsed, back arching and head flinging backwards, his nails digging into Dean's back as he came violently over Dean's chest, his insides clenching spasmodically.

It drove Dean over the edge where he had been dangling precariously, his vision whiting as he spent himself within the tight heat of Castiel, the clenching muscles around him wringing him dry.

Castiel fell back on the bed, Dean slumping over him, catching his breath and regaining the feeling in his toes before he removed himself from Cas. He wrapped his body around the smaller man, cocooning him in limbs and love as they recovered from the intensity of their orgasms. A first for Cas and the best for Dean.

"That was so…incredible. Beautiful. It felt so right." Dean murmured into the back of Cas's neck.

The angel turned slightly so that he could look at Dean, absolute peace scrawled over both their faces as they smiled at one another.

"I think I understand now." Cas said wearily.

"Understand what?" Dean stroked a hand over Castiel's somewhat sticky stomach.

"Who you are." Cas replied, Dean quizzing him with his eyes. "You are my soul mate." Cas elaborated.

"That stuffs real?" Dean raised his brows. "Like, destined lovers and all that?"

Cas nodded. "By the laws of Heaven some people are simply fated to be together, but they do not always find each other. If they do, they become forever bonded to one another, their souls joining together, permanently."

"Was that what that was? Our souls joining?" Dean asked, recalling the completion he felt and the peace it left him with.

"Yes, I believe so, though it was more your soul and my grace." Cas thought for a moment. "I do not know of any other human-angel pairings. Always, it is one human and another, never this. I did not know I could have a soul mate, so I never considered looking."

"Well, I wasn't born yet. You got quite the age advantage on me." Dean joked, and Cas smiled, a more common occurrence lately.

"I do, I suppose. I am many millennia's older than you."

"God, don't say that, it's weird. So you're saying that we were destined to be together? Us? An angelic vessel/hunter and a warrior of God?"

Cas chuckled lightly. "An unlikely match, for certain, but one that it seems was inevitable."

"I like to think that I had a choice, and I made it. I chose you, and you chose me, fate or no. Though I like that, y'know? I like that we were meant to be together, that someone up there decided to make someone just for me. Or, made me for you, if you consider that you came first."

"I like it, too. You are mine, Dean. You belong to me, now and forever." Cas said seriously.

Dean had a witty line prepared but dropped it in a moment of serious clarity.

"I know." He satisfied himself with saying instead. "We will always be together, won't we? That's what soul mates are, right? Two souls that stay together even after death."

"Always. The joining of two souls is permanent, nothing can ever change that. Now that we have found each other we will remain bound to one another for eternity."

"Wow…" Dean exhaled, arm tightening around Castiel.

"Does that frighten you?" Castiel asked, turning over so that he and Dean were face to face, limbs entwined together on the bed. Their eyes locked.

"No." Dean replied, knowing that it was true. "Normally that kinda thing would scare the hell outta me, y'know, talk of eternity and soul-mates, but honestly, no, I'm not afraid of it. It feels right. It feels like everything is right for once, like my life makes sense now. I know it would make no sense at all if you weren't in it. I don't think I could live without you, to be honest. _That _frightens me – needing you frightens me, but only because I am scared of losing you."

Castiel touched his face gently, reassurance thrumming in his touch.

"I'm not going anywhere." He promised, tilting his face up to press his lips to Deans. "I carry within me a part of you, and you hold a part of me." Castiel gathered Dean's hands in his and pressed them to his chest. "Right here." He whispered.

Peace spread through Dean's body and he found himself drifting to sleep.

"Don't leave. Stay with me." He asked sleepily.

"I'll never leave you." Castiel vowed, but Dean was already asleep. "So this is love." Cas mused to himself, lying back against the pillows and closing his eyes.

**A/N **_I was considering writing more but this seems like a good place to end. All in all, I'm very happy with this one, so I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe if this gets enough reviews and favourites I'll write a 'morning after' chapter. _

_Zephyr _


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